Sunday, 20 November 2011

Notes From A Dogwalk I

Tinkling goatbells warn of dog danger in the distance. I must veer left, avoid the encounter. Excitable dogs start fights. The carpet of yellow, orange, brown leaves. Shocking green seedlings poke through it; thousands of new lives shortly to fall by the wayside. The struggle for supremacy starts with just two rounded leaf dots. The trees are gnarly and twisted; nibbled by goats, they shoot prickles of new growth from their unduly shortened limbs. There is peace here but only in emptiness. I know it's Autumn, the time of decay, but I don't feel life in this forest. The sky is grey today and maybe I am too. Dogs interrupt. Streaks of running animals in the distance send mine pounding down the hillside to intercept. No fights but I must move on. Bells sound from two directions; one goats, one sheep. I must move on.

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